blur, beautiful yorkshire, hot, fungi, wild angelica, lecture room 7, facing the strange, edward thomas's birds' nests

Scenes from the last couple of difficult weeks that have passed in a blur.

Mum's funeral was in Yorkshire where Dad is buried. It was a bright sunny afternoon and the countryside surrounding the churchyard was as beautiful as it ever was.

The support of family and close friends was so very much appreciated.

Around Oxford, the days have mostly been lightless but hot. Fifteen or even seventeen degrees. A boon for fungi - and it seems, wild angelica.

The lost glove looks jollier than I must have done recently.

Amidst the sadness, though, there have been good times. I loved working with the undergraduate students during my seminar series, which finished last week. I first started teaching it in Lecture Room 7 in 2007. The door isn't exactly Brideshead, perhaps, but it's mine - at least for two and a half hours a week for five weeks as autumn gives way to winter.

I also finished copy editing what we're calling the uncorrected proof edition of Facing the Strange at the weekend, and the printed proof arrived today. Although an advocate of ebooks, you can't beat a real book!

At Mum's funeral I read Edward Thomas's poem Birds' Nests:

The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind,
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark,
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them with
I cannot help a little shame
That I missed most, even at eye's level, till
The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.

'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests
Still in their places, now first known,
At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,
Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests deep-hid
That leaves and berries fell into:
Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,
And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.